Not Far to Go, Part Four
by Dance With Me Yo
Summary: Parker tries out sexting for the first time. During a meeting. Poor Eliot. Eliot/Parker, smutty. Fourth in a series of E/P.


**Fanfic Connoiseur: **Yep, I have an outline of what I want to do for Hardison finally getting the chance to talk to Parker, and find out exactly what is going on. I believe it will be in my Halloween shot. :)

**whimseyrhodes: **Just wanted to say thank you for the detailed review! My favorite.

**Everybody else: **You're all amazing, and I'm so sorry for the lack of an update this past week - but I was busy, and I have come up with the plot for part five, so it's not all bad. Thank you all!

**A/N:** I have an infatuation for the hitter and the thief - especially together. I love Hardison to death, just not with Parker. I've got about five ideas lined up for the series, each one being posted as a oneshot. So here goes.

_Not Far to Go _Series

One thing always leads to another. Some people aren't meant to be; others just click, whether they want to or not. Parker didn't have far to go to find herself in Eliot's arms - and according to Eliot, she doesn't have far to go to reach a new level of insanity.

A somewhat smutty series on my favorite non-canon Leverage couple.

* * *

**Part Four: Sexting**

Eliot had always prided himself on his _focus_; his drive to succeed and well, basically fucken survive.

But this afternoon, whilst in the middle of playing close attention to Nathan Ford announce the team's newest job from the middle of their makeshift conference room, the hitter found his focus shattered into a million pieces.

Nate was stressing the need for muscle on this job - the security was absolutely ridiculous - when Eliot's cell vibrated quietly against his thigh.

He slipped the phone from his pocket, glancing at the screen quickly, planning on silencing his phone altogether when he noticed two important factors.

One, the alert on his phone was for a text, and _very _few people texted him. (Really, just Hardison.)

Two, the message wasn't from everyone's favorite hacker, seated a few feet from him, on the other side of Parker. Parker, who was the guilty party.

He hadn't even seen her using her phone - how in the _hell?_

With a sense of severe reservation, Eliot opened the message, Nate's voice now a distant droning noise.

_**Can't stop thinking about what it'd be like to have your dick in my mouth. **_

Eliot's eyes flew to the blonde thief next to him, wide with surprise. But Parker was staring straight ahead, feigning interest in their meeting with an appropriately glazed expression.

_Can't _act? Who the fuck ever decided that?

Nonchalant was not Parker's middle name; awkward was. So why, in the name of Christ, did her inexplicable smoothness appear out of thin air only when dealing with fucking with _his_ head?

Almost furiously, Eliot began texting back under the table, scowling the whole time.

_**Stop fucking with me. I'm paying attention. **_

Well, he had been, at least, before this whole fiasco (because God knows that's what it was about to become) began, bursting his content bubble of concentration.

Eliot watched the girl next to him for any signs of reprisal, but she seemed satisfied by listening to Nate and Hardison discuss the security system, her hands immobile on the table before her. He turned his attention back to his team, attempting to catch himself up to speed, but then it happened again.

His phone vibrated.

God-fucking-_dammit_ how fast could that girl text?

_**I can't help it. I'm wet, sitting right next to you, and it's killing me. I just want to taste you… every inch. Wonder if it could all fit… **_

On the upside, Eliot was grateful that Parker was deterring from using annoying texting shorthands, like "u" and "2". Downside - if this kept going at the current rate he was going to get a hard-on from hell.

Why hell, you ask?

Because he was not only seated next to the cause - the little she-demon he was secretly fucking (God, was he fucking her? Or was it more correct to merely say "fucked"? Was it a continuous thing?) - but on the other side was sitting the most observant, Machiavellian, nosy woman he'd ever met - Sophie.

Here's where Eliot struggled - should he give in, appease the girl by responding to her little tortuous game (she had, very willingly, given in to his last game, but there had been a startling amount of alcohol and privacy involved), or should he ignore her? Which, knowing Parker, would either lead to an embarrassing and awkward confrontation, or her being… disappointed with him.

The first option was annoying, but the second was almost unbearable - not that he cared that much, generally, but Parker shouldn't have to be disappointed by anyone, least of all, him. He couldn't stand the sight of that childish little light go out behind her eyes - not that he'd ever, _ever_ admit it.

But none of them could stand that, he realized - she had the whole team basically wrapped around her finger when it came to allowing and withstanding her ridiculous traits. He had always been the one the most willing to disagree with her, tear her little dream world apart and let her suffer the realities of life, lacking the entertainment she begged for.

Parker had maneuvered them into caring for her - but unlike Sophie's manipulations, she did it without realizing, without striving to do so.

So, grudgingly, Eliot positioned his phone under the table again, slipping his fingers across the keys soundlessly, a diminutive grin tugging at his lips as he hit send.

_**Never found a woman who could handle me fucking her mouth. I'd love to see you try, though. Bobbing your pretty little blonde head over the tip… **_

Eliot actually _felt_ Parker tense next to him at his words, rising to his bait.

"Parker?"

"Huh?" the thief looked up to see Nate frowning at her, eyebrows raised in question. Her dark blue eyes were wide, distracted.

"I asked if you'd have the tools necessary for Dalton's safe. It's one of those new models, the-"

"Yeah, I've got it. No problem," said the thief, cutting him off and glancing down at what appeared to be the tabletop before her.

Nate looked baffled for a moment, then accusingly glanced to the right of the thief at Eliot, who was staring at his boss placidly, both hands folded on the table in front of him. Eliot found himself raising an eyebrow, as if to say, "Go on."

"Yes, well, great. So that leaves Hardison with forty-five seconds to get the…"

Vibrate.

_**I'd fit as much as I could in my mouth, using my hand for the rest, moaning at the taste. I would slide you down my throat till I choked, over and over…**_

Eliot had a pretty fantastic mental picture right at the moment, and he found himself shifting in his seat.

Sophie glanced at the movement, so he promptly stilled, pulling an attentive expression over his slightly heated one. The grifter bought it, but remained skeptical, a frown marring her features as she turned her attention elsewhere.

Then he was typing again, the words coming without any thought besides how good it would feel if it were happening right _now_…

_**I'd fist my hands in your hair and pull you up, switching your position until your pussy is dripping over my face, and your mouth's over my cock again… **_

Parker let out a little breathy sigh without realizing it. Eliot flicked her thigh in annoyance, warning her to shut the hell up. When the thief glanced up at him, her dark eyes filled with a burning longing, lips parted slightly. His dick twitched against the fabric of his jeans, and then his gaze was straight forward again.

Fuck, he was going to walk out of a room of his colleagues with a raging erection.

Because there was no way, none whatsoever, that he was going to whack it under the table, seated between both of his female teammates.

Parker's response came quicker this time.

_**Fuck, Eliot, I want your tongue deep inside of me while I suck you off, grinding on your face, riding out my pleasure, panting your name…**_

After reading the message, Eliot shifted the phone further under the table, nearly gasping when he bumped into his dick, straining for attention. But he managed to type a response, anyway.

_**I want you to cum all over my face, taste every drop you have to ofer, as I shoot my entire load down your tight, willing throat… **_

Eliot refused to look at the thief anymore, straining to appear focused on the discussion he was half-assedly participating in, knowing that the sight of her cheeks slightly flushed would send his cock over the edge, into the land of no return.

He nearly groaned at the sensation of his phone vibrating, wondering what naughty fabrication Parker had written for him this time. A vague sense of mortification hit him as he read her words.

_**Haha, you spelled offer wrong. **_

Oh, fuck her, her and her stupid fucking head games, screwing with him to the point of Goddamn illiteracy! That was utter bullshit! And-

And _that_, was Parker's tiny, skilled hand sliding very effortlessly onto his crotch, immediately seeking out his suffering cock. She was hardly moving, allowing her fingers to massage him through his jeans, staying as still as possible.

Eliot was stiff with control, fighting through the pleasure to appear _normal._

It was a fucken struggle.

He had a sudden image of himself in middle school, dreading the moment the bell rang, petrified to stand up and leave class due to the tent in his pants.

But he wasn't in middle school anymore and this shit was _not _acceptable.

Sophie suddenly stood, walking around the table to get a closer look at something Nate was holding, leaving the other three alone at the table. Eliot realized how ridiculously close the thief was to him, much closer than she was to Hardison - and now with so much leftover room at the table, he felt like a flashing neon sign was above his head.

_**GETTING FELT UP.**_

But for some reason, unknown to him, his hands remained motionless on the table - the complete opposite of batting Parker away.

_Resist, Spencer. Keep it down._

But the mantra did nothing to quell the thought of him standing up and throwing the conniving thief down on the scattered papers before them, fucking her to Sophie's gasp of surprise, Hardison's shocked and silent fury, and Nate's slight amusement.

"Fuck," Eliot hissed under his breath, annoyed that his imagination was betraying him, causing his body to do exactly what he was dreading.

"Yes, Eliot?"

Had he been that loud?

Parker's hand slid back into her own lap now that everyone's attention was on the flustered hitter. Eliot felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at the loss of contact.

"Just commenting on the security. It's not gonna be easy," he lied pretty smoothly, if a bit in-articulately.

Nate nodded. "I think you'll be able to handle it," he said confidently.

"Oh, no question about that," Eliot responded, voicing dropping dangerously.

Parker squirmed slightly, an action Eliot was sure only he noticed.

"Great. Parker, Eliot - I need you two to do some recon."

Nate rambled off directions to the building they were scouting, throwing in a few details of what they were looking for.

Bad guys doing bad things, he got it.

What he didn't get was how the hell he was supposed to stand up.

Parker abruptly shot out of her seat as soon as Nate finished talking, swiping her long blonde hair into a ponytail. She lingered by the door, expression bored, as she waited for Eliot to join her.

Eliot hadn't moved an inch.

Nate stared at him expectantly.

"Huh?" the hitter grunted, uncomfortable.

"_Now_," Nate stressed, making shooing motions with his hands.

Eliot glared. Now the whole goddamn room was watching him, curious to his behavior - but he knew Parker was just fucking laughing on the inside.

Her joy in the situation was going to result in her body parts being strewn across the room.

"Fine. You can all stop looking at me any time now." He turned his glare on the rest of the team.

They kept watching, even more perplexed now.

Eliot growled to himself, standing up from behind the table, his left hand quickly covering the half-hard-on remaining.

Sophie's eyes widened comically, a small (yet impressed) "oh" leaving her lips.

Nate coughed and looked away, awkward.

"Whoa, man," Hardison said, cackling with laughter.

"Like it ain't ever happened to you!" Eliot snapped over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket and heading to the door, refusing to meet Parker's eyes, lest he see triumph there.

"Must have been some meeting!" Sophie called after him, an amused and knowing tone in her voice.

Parker darted out of the door before Eliot. The hitter scowled, following her, silently fuming.

At least his jeans were finally fitting right again.

Once reaching the sidewalk outside, Parker's boots ceased their incessant clicking as she stopped, waiting a beat for him to catch up. Her hands were shoved in the pockets of her light jacket and she was grinning, eyes shining with mirth.

"That was fun."

Eliot's eyes narrowed to slits. He wanted to yell at her, tell her Fuck no, that was embarrassing, but all that came out was, "Your idea of fun is all sorts of fucked up."

Frowning, the thief began walking backwards, keeping her gaze fixed on him.

"You didn't like it?" She jutted out her bottom lip slightly.

Fuck, was Parker _pouting_? For Christ's sake.

"Shut up and get in the truck."

Parker swiveled around to face Eliot's truck, sighing dramatically before climbing into the cab. She still appeared to be pouting.

Eliot swung into the driver's seat with ease, noticing Parker's crossed arms and lack of enthusiasm.

He shook his head and started the vehicle, easing out of the parking spot and into the flow of traffic.

Parker had now upgraded her silent pout-fest into staring out the window, making extra effort not to look at him.

He worried for a second (more like a half) that he had offended her, fucked up their - whatever the fuck it was - but a solution struck him immediately after that thought.

He began fumbling, trying to be quiet and manage driving at the same time to keep her attention elsewhere. After a few more fumbles and jerks, he was finished.

"Well?" He mustered as much false annoyance as he could into the word.

The result was exactly what he desired.

Parker's head snapped towards him, ready to be defensive, but found herself choking on the words. Her gaze flew immediately to Eliot's right hand, her eyes watching with interest as he stroked his exposed cock.

"Oh," she sort of gasped.

Blue eyes flickered to her, then back to the road.

"Don't just watch. You said you wanted to suck it."

The blonde's gaze darkened with desire, clouding over the confusion and surprise.

It was the middle of the day, they were driving down a fairly populated street, cars and people whizzing by - Eliot felt a surge of anticipation at the notion. He noticed her hesitation, and knowing that it in no way correlated with the setting, reflected on her reaction to his coarse instruction. They had passed the barrier of rough, somewhat dominating sex during their last exploit… so he had a theory to test.

"Get the fuck over here. I need to get off," Eliot half-growled, his voice growing husky.

The thief's eyes flashed, and she slowly unbuckled her seatbelt, sliding herself across the bench seat.

Eliot briefly wondered of she had somehow anticipated this from him - she had put her hair up before they left, after all.

Parker's hands found his jean clad thigh, fingers lightly bracing herself as she lowered her head towards her destination.

The moment her hot breath hit the head of his dick, Eliot's free hand was gripping her ponytail and forcing her further down. Parker moaned as he hit the back of her throat, none too gently, her hair wound in his fist.

The hitter hadn't thought that her mouth could be as talented as every other bit of her, but she proved him wrong, swallowing more of his dick than anyone else before her.

He had finally met a woman who could handle it.

Retracting earlier statement, now-ish.

The intense heat of her engulfed him completely, whimpering with each dip of her blonde head.

"Take it all," Eliot encouraged, groaning at the sensation, eyes painfully wide to comprehend the street in front of him.

The back of her throat was taking a beating, but Parker didn't fight his pace - merely slid one hand from his thigh to his balls, and circled the base of his shaft. Her teeth grazed the underside of his cock, sending ripples up his spine.

"Shit," he gasped, fighting the urge to close his eyes and keep the vehicle in its proper lane. "Fucking _harder_."

Parker picked up her pace in response to the harsh command. Her tongue swirled around him, teasing, making Eliot's grip on her hair loosen a bit. She whimpered again - this time in protest.

Eliot grinned. He fucking loved making this girl into putty in his hands, loved her begging for more. She kept up with him, every aspect of him - like right now. He was fairly sure her scalp was screaming in protest at his rough treatments of her ponytail, her throat was expanding past what seemed like a normal limit, and the frantic, loud breathing through her nose was like music to his ears.

Pushing each other to their limits is what they did - one of them teased/tortured/taunted over the line, and the other put them in their place. It was painful pleasure, blissfully challenging, a fucking overload of the senses - which, at that moment, Eliot got to experience as the truck bounced over a set of railroad tracks, and Parker had so much of him in her mouth he was sure she was going to choke.

But she didn't; she just hummed deep in the back of throat, hand rubbing the crevice between thigh and hip, and he exploded, the edges of his vision darkening as she drank the load greedily.

Eliot let his hand free of her hair, coming up to rest on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white.

Parker sat up, wiping her swollen, saliva-covered lips with the back of her hand. Grinning, she pulled Eliot's boxers back into place and zipped his jeans. She had a victorious air about her.

"_That_ was fun."

Eliot couldn't help but agree.

"We almost there?" Parker asked, sliding back into her seat, decisively refusing to fix her demolished ponytail.

Glancing at her, Eliot smirked at the looping tendrils of blonde hair jutting from her head at various intervals, places his fingers had tangled.

He grinned cunningly.

"It's about a mile behind us," he responded, turning sharply into a parking lot to turn around.

Parker just laughed.

* * *

A/N: This one's short - I apologize. Next will be better. The gang goes on a mini-vacay to an amusement park.


End file.
